


Go Fish

by collatorsden_archivist, Fionnabair



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-22
Updated: 2008-06-22
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionnabair/pseuds/Fionnabair
Summary: Sam finds there are lower depths to sink to and that he’s in worse trouble than he thought.





	1. 1. Hook

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** with thanks to Hambelandjemima for inspiring the title.

A cold wind blew through the small railway station and Sam hunched closer into his jacket, hoping that his pick-up was not going to be long. It wasn’t routine, but it was familiar enough that Sam didn’t have too many qualms about meeting up with a stranger who would take him to see his client. He’d now been employed by enough big names, in all sorts of spheres, to know that security was security and that the secrecy was not for his benefit, but for the client’s. 

 

 

Huffing on his cold hands, Sam decided that he was going to have to use some of his meagre savings to buy a warmer coat. With first-hand evidence now, he knew that the winters were certainly harsher than they had been where he had come from. 

 

 

But that was for later, he realised as he narrowed his eyes, having spotted a beaten-up old Rover pulling up in the station forecourt. Not the kind of car he was used to on this type of assignment, but Sam knew that, to some of his clients, anonymity came without price. 

 

 

He approached cautiously as the driver wound down his window, obviously checking Sam out, but whether as a potential threat or something else, Sam couldn’t quite work out. 

 

 

Sam finally stopped about a foot away from the window and nodded. 

 

 

“Sam?” the driver asked. 

 

 

“Eddie?” 

 

 

The man smiled, his eyes creasing as he did so. “Hop in.” 

 

 

Sam cautiously walked around the vehicle, climbing into the front passenger seat and belting up as Eddie pulled out into the sluggish flow of traffic. 

 

 

Eddie was bulky, fitting into the driver’s seat more from perseverance than nature. Greying, with the obligatory moustache, he was every inch the ‘muscle’. Sam shrank further into his seat, contrarily trying to hide his differences by becoming less than he was. 

 

 

Eddie smiled at Sam as he drove back towards Manchester. “It’s not that far. We’ve got a hotel room booked. Useful place, actually. Discreet.” 

 

 

“Do you know anything about the job?” Sam asked. 

 

 

Eddie shook his head. “I’m just helping out today. I don’t know anything apart from where we’re going and the room number. Sorry.” 

 

 

Sam nodded, morosely. That figured. It never crossed the ‘facilitator’s’ mind that their contractor might need to know the basics of the job beforehand for purely practical reasons. 

 

 

After about a ten-minute drive, Eddie pulled up outside a small hotel on a back street somewhere on the outskirts of one of the small villages that made up the Manchester suburbs. 

 

 

“Well, we’re here. I’ll show you up to the room.” 

 

 

Bypassing the small reception desk, which was currently unmanned, Eddie led Sam up a staircase at the back of the building, and they climbed up several floors before he led the way down a dingy corridor, finally stopping outside a door about halfway down. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open to let Sam into the room. 

 

 

“If you just wait here a moment, I’ll go and let the client know you’re here.” 

 

 

Sam nodded his understanding and walked into the room, Eddie closing the door behind him, his footsteps dimming down the thinly carpeted corridor. The room was very basic. A double bed took up most of the small area, with a small wardrobe by the side of a rather dirty window and a chest of drawers on the other side. A low armchair completed the inventory of furniture. He looked around, something feeling slightly off with the entire set-up. But he shook his head. He couldn’t see anything amiss and it was probably just his own apprehension that was making him feel on edge. 

 

 

A small door in the opposite corner indicated that there were, surprisingly, en suite facilities, and Sam hesitated a moment. It would be a good idea to prepare himself, as he still had no idea of what was expected of him. It would be uncomfortable if that was not what the client wanted, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He crossed over to the small bathroom, barely even a closet, and got on with his business, methodical and clinical, distancing his mind from the job in hand, thinking only of getting through this as he always did. 

 

 

Finally ready, Sam left the bathroom to see the client standing in the room. Funny, rather that he’d not heard him come in. But shaking all thoughts aside, he walked towards the other man, hand outstretched. 

 

 

“Hello. I’m…” 

 

 

“Shut it,” the other man said. “I’m not interested. Just strip.” 

 

 

Sam, slightly shocked, nodded mutely and undressed quickly. The client, some kind of businessman by the looks of him and definitely not local, just stared at Sam, not moving at all while he did so. Sam finally dropped his pants on top of the rest of his clothes and the man nodded. 

 

 

“Bend over the arm of that chair. Now.” 

 

 

Flinching slightly at the man’s tone of voice, Sam quietly did as he was told. Anything the client thought he could do was nothing compared to what Hunt would do if Sam didn’t obey. Finally balanced uncomfortably over the arm of the chair and bracing his arms against the other, he looked back at the other man. 

 

 

“I…” 

 

 

The man landed a stinging slap across Sam’s lower back. “I said shut it. And don’t look at me. Keep your face forward and your trap shut. Got it?” 

 

 

Sam immediately faced forward, bracing himself mentally as well as physically as he heard the familiar rasp of a zipper behind him, keeping as still as possible as the man kicked his feet apart and, without preamble, forced his way inside. 

 

 

“Filthy little whore. Absolutely gagging for it, weren’t you?” the man behind him said as he registered the ease in which penetration had occurred, all thanks to Sam’s foresight. Foresight that Sam was now grateful for, even if he did have to endure the insults. Pricked pride was nothing compared to the physical damage that could occur. 

 

 

The client was supremely uninterested in the comfort of the naked man under him as he thrust his way back and forth, fingers digging deep into Sam’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. Sam clenched his teeth, mentally preparing a shopping list, ideas for nights out, anything to distract him from the stinging pain and the obscene panting of the man behind him. 

 

 

But the man, obviously warming up to his insults, carried on his tirade, cutting through Sam’s thoughts, peppering his words with savage thrusts of his hips. “You’re all the same, you filthy whores. It’s not the money is it? It’s getting as much cock as you can and as often as you can. It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? Begging on a street corner for a good time? Tarted up in skin-tight trousers, shaking your wares to anyone who might walk by. Pretty nancy boys, promising a good time in a single glance. Just for a quick fuck, to take as much cock up your arse as you can. May be next time I’ll bring some friends along. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? All lined up to take a turn at your skinny little arse. Or fucking your scrawny little mouth, yeah. You’re gagging for _that_ aren’t you? Gagging for a taste of a real man. Scum, the lot of you. I’d have you all shot if I could. Fucking dirty, filthy, little whore!” 

 

 

The last word came out at a near scream as the man thrust in brutally once more and came. He paused for a moment, leaning heavily on Sam’s hips and getting his breath back before quickly pulling out. Sam moved his arms, pushing up slightly to ease the ache in his lower back. But the man clapped a broad hand on the back of his neck, pushing his face back down into the seat of the armchair. 

 

 

“Stay like that. Don’t move until I’ve left. If you move again you won’t get your money.” 

 

 

Humiliated, Sam stood stock still, the arm of the chair digging into his stomach, head down, legs apart, come dripping down his thighs as he heard the man rezip his trousers and move away. Finally he heard the door open and close and, cautiously, he turned round to confirm that he was alone in the room. 

 

 

Sam sank to his knees. He would fucking kill Hunt if he could. 

 

 

Moments passed and Sam realised that he ought to start moving so, picking himself up off the floor, he grabbed his clothes and, ignoring for now the aches in his arms and legs, he cleaned himself up in the little bathroom. 

 

 

Exiting a few minutes later he was surprised to see Eddie sitting on the bed. Eddie wasn’t looking too happy and Sam’s heart sank. If the client was prepared to complain, there was no telling what Hunt would do. 

 

 

Sam gave Eddie a wary smile and Eddie sighed. 

 

 

“Well, that didn’t go to plan. Completely the wrong angle. Couldn’t get sound either.” 

 

 

Sam frowned. “You were taping this?” 

 

 

“Well, no as it turned out. The camera was focused on the bed. Damn.” Then he turned his gaze to Sam, assessing. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to make a bit more money. On the side, no cut to your boss?” 

 

 

Sam folded his arms. “Just what are you suggesting?” 

 

 

“Well, if we had a little more participation going on in the scene, then we’d be able to nail it right that’s all. If we brought you on board we could have it done and dusted next time.” 

 

 

“And what’s the game?” Sam said in an icy voice. “Blackmail?” 

 

 

“No! Well, in a manner of speaking, maybe. We need to lean on the Councillor somehow. He’s been making life difficult for my boss. It’s more insurance than blackmail, I suppose.” 

 

 

Sam shook his head. “Absolutely not. Apart from the fact it’d be more than my life’s worth with _my_ boss, I won’t do anything illegal.” 

 

 

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “That’s rich coming from you. A bloke that peddles his arse to anyone with enough money and you won’t do anything illegal. Get real. Besides, your boss had already agreed to this. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. Mind you, you being the uptight sort, I suppose he wouldn’t.” 

 

 

Sam went white. He would kill Hunt for this. For setting him up like this. Well, he supposed that blackmail was only one other thing that the man would be willing to do. After all the backhanders and money he and Phyllis were making on the side, he shouldn’t be shocked that Hunt would stoop as low as this. And how else was Sam himself kept in place, except by a little blackmail and extortion? And just maybe he could use this to his advantage. After all, it was only a matter of time before Hunt and Phyllis’s double dealings would get them into trouble. This might just help things on slightly. 

 

 

Then he shook his head. No, it was obvious that Eddie and his boss were good friends with Hunt. Anything stupid Sam tried now would just be another nail in his coffin when Hunt found out. Better to be cautious. Besides he wasn’t quite sure he could take another round with the esteemed ‘Councillor’. He’d be better off backing away, may be sniffing around the little set-up a little bit instead. 

 

 

“I’m sorry Eddie. But I can’t. This was a one-off. I can’t help it if your camera wasn’t set up correctly. Anyway, the boss’ll have my hide if he finds out I’ve worked off the books. You’ll have to get someone else to help with your scheme.” 

 

 

Eddie nodded mournfully, pushing up off the bed. “Well, it was a thought. But I will have a word with your boss,” he said meaningfully and Sam tightened his lips. “Under the circumstances, you’ll have to find your own way back. I’ve got a lot of work to do. The gig was paid for up front, so I don’t think we owe you anything.” And with that he left the room. 

 

 

Sam fumed for a few more seconds before grabbing his jacket and following. 

 

 

As Sam left the dingy little hotel, he spotted Eddie talking to someone, possibly the man he worked for, a few yards down the road. Curious and wondering if he could get something on the pair, he cautiously made his way down towards them, keeping as much out of sight as possible. He crouched against a low wall, straining to catch what they were discussing. 

 

 

_“…it’s no good, sir. He’s not going to play.”_

_“Well, we’ll just have to make him then, won’t we?”_

 

 

Sam stilled in shock as he recognised the second voice. Pushing up and away from the wall, he turned and fled. 

 

 

This time it was personal.

* * * * *

Gene was in the manager’s office of the Flamingo, going over business with Jack, when the door burst open. Jack looked up surprised, as Sam Tyler stormed into the room and grabbed Gene’s arm, his face flushed with anger.

 

 

“I can’t fucking believe that you would get me to do that, you bastard. I thought you’d sunk low, but that’s a new depth. I don’t give a shit what you do, but I’m not doing that.” 

 

 

Gene pushed Sam backwards, pinning him against the wall. “What are you on about?” he demanded. “You’ll fucking do what you’re told. We had a deal. Or do you want me to break it?” 

 

 

Sam didn’t back down. “We didn’t have a deal for that. Do you know the sentence for that? It’s up to fourteen years and it’d be all of us if it came out. You might be an amoral git, but I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to risk something like that. And with someone who knows who you are?” 

 

 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Tyler?” demanded Gene. 

 

 

“Blackmail.” 

 

 

“WHAT?” 

 

 

“The job at lunchtime. They were trying to film it. Said they needed insurance with the client and they’d set it up with you.” 

 

 

Jack interrupted. “I took the job and all they said was that they needed a boy. That’s all – so I sent Tyler. I’ve sorted out girls for Eddie before, and I assumed it was the same thing. It’s what he does for me in Brum. I didn’t know about this.” 

 

 

Gene glared at the interruption and Sam continued, ignoring Jack. 

 

 

“And I know you know Eddie’s partner. God, you probably had that one running back years ago.” 

 

 

“What?” 

 

 

“You’d have let him go anyway, I suppose. Just told him to go and do his dirty work elsewhere? Are you getting a cut from him in Birmingham as well?” 

 

 

“What do you mean, you obnoxious little toerag?” 

 

 

“The man. Eddie’s partner. It was Vic Tyler.” 

 

 

Gene dragged Sam away from the wall. 

 

 

“We’ll take this further. You’re coming with me.”


	2. 2. Line

The drive back to Sam’s flat was quick and silent. Sam seethed in the passenger seat as Gene screeched to a halt outside the flat, not having said a word to Sam since he’d dragged him out of the Flamingo. Sam got out of the Cortina and slammed the passenger door shut. He went into the building without looking behind him and stalked up the stairs. 

 

 

Sukey’s door opened as he passed. 

 

 

“Sam? I...” She cut off abruptly on seeing Gene behind him on the stairs. 

 

 

Gene ignored her and followed Sam up to his flat, shutting the door behind him. Sam stood in the middle of the room. 

 

 

“Tyler,” began Gene, reaching for Sam’s shoulder. 

 

 

Sam whirled in an instant, his fist coming around and connecting with Gene’s gut. Instinctively Gene hit back with a punch to Sam’s shoulder and the pair started fighting in deadly earnest, blow for blow, punching and kicking with a furious intensity. 

 

 

Gene gave up first, backed against the wall, with Sam’s hand at his throat, half cutting off his air. 

 

 

“You _bastard_ ,” hissed Sam. “I could at least understand the twisted logic that made you the biggest pimp in Manchester, but _blackmail_? What’s next? Your own little film industry? Assassins for hire? A nice line in drugs? Was that why you put Warren away and ran Vic Tyler out of town? Wouldn’t tolerate the competition?” 

 

 

Gene responded with a kick and a stamp, wrenching free of Sam and sending him reeling against the sofa. Moving swiftly, he was on top of Sam in an instant, forcing him face down on the carpet, his knee in Sam’s back, twisting one of his arms behind him. 

 

 

“How dare you even suggest I’d do such a thing, Sammy boy?” he demanded. “I keep a clean city and I manage the dirty bits so they don’t interfere. I. Do. Not. Blackmail,” he added, punctuating each word by slamming Sam’s head into the carpet before sitting back and releasing him. 

 

 

Sam dragged himself out from under Gene and pulled himself up so that he was sitting against the couch. His nose was bleeding and his face was reddened from the friction of the carpet. 

 

 

“And why the fuck should I believe you?” he sneered. 

 

 

Gene stayed still for a moment before he leaned forward, grabbed Sam by the back of his head and kissed him. 

 

 

Sam froze in shock as Gene shuffled nearer, his other hand sliding down Sam’s back, pulling him in closer. There were no words. Gene tugged at Sam’s shirt, ripping half the buttons, reaching for his belt, undoing his trousers, his heavy hand wrapping around Sam’s cock as if he’d never thought of anything else in his life. His own cock strained the material of his trousers, trapped in polyester while Gene frantically rubbed against Sam’s leg and tugged on his cock. Sam finally pushed Gene away and the older man sat back, panting and unzipping his trousers with shaking hands. 

 

 

Sam stood up, and without looking at Gene again, stalked into the bedroom. 

 

 

His ruined shirt and trousers were already on the floor when Gene followed him. Sam didn’t acknowledge Gene’s presence until he walked around to face him, standing between Sam and the bed. 

 

 

“You want this, don’t you?” Sam finally asked in a flat tone. 

 

 

Eyes dark with lust, Gene nodded. 

 

 

Sam immediately pushed him backwards until Gene was flat on his back on the bed. Now naked, he straddled Gene and pulled his shirt open and his trousers down. He grabbed Gene’s cock roughly and began slicking it with lubricant, all the time talking in an angry voice. 

 

 

“You fucking pimp, sneering at me, pretending you’re better. You only do this for the perks. Blowjobs aren’t enough anymore, are they? What you really want – all you’ve ever wanted – is this.” 

 

 

Gene gasped as Sam sat down on his cock, the burn and the heat making him close his eyes and hiss, a movement mirrored by Sam, who barely paused in his rant. 

 

 

“What’s it like, Gene? You’ve never fucked the girls – was it because you only wanted a man? I know about the excuses, the beatings, the ‘apologies’ afterwards, you’d use any fucking excuse to get my mouth around your cock, wouldn’t you? The shit you’ve done – beatings, rapings, muggings, threats, even telling me what you’d do to Annie if I didn’t obey. And it’s all because you’re an arse bandit too, you’re a fucking poof, you’ve just been wanting it for ages. Bet you’ve fucked half the men down the station. Bet you let Warren fuck you all those years. Was all this because you wanted me?” 

 

 

Sam was leaning over Gene, his contorted face only a few inches away, his sweat dripping into Gene’s eyes. 

 

 

“Turnabout’s fair play, _Guv_. You’ve got your cock up my arse – you’re just as much a poof now as I am.” 

 

 

He sat back further, driving himself deeper onto Gene’s cock. 

 

 

Gene couldn’t speak, the only sounds crossing his lips grunts and moans as he thrust upwards to the best of his ability. He blindly reached around and grabbed Sam’s prick, running his thumb across the head and wanking him off. 

 

 

Sam’s tirade had become incoherent now, a litany of curses and grunts as he shut his eyes and let Gene bring him off. He came suddenly, violently yelling, his eyes closed, his face contorted, his come spilling over Gene’s hand. It was too much for Gene, who gave one last thrust and followed him over the brink. 

 

 

Without a word, Sam disentangled himself and walked off to the bathroom. Gene lay back for a few moments, still stunned by what had happened. When Sam didn’t return, he pulled himself off the bed, pulling up his trousers with a wince. He knocked on the bathroom door. 

 

 

“Tyler! Come out of there. What are you doing in there anyway?” 

 

 

“Basking in the afterglow.” Sam’s voice was bitter and low, all rage gone. 

 

 

“Stop sulking and get out here.” 

 

 

There was a pause and then the door opened. 

 

 

Sam was still naked, but had cleaned the cut on his lip. Scrapes on his face and chest indicated that he was going to be well bruised the next day. 

 

 

Gene looked at him, suddenly confused and uncertain. Sam just looked back straight in his face. 

 

 

“Got what you wanted now, Gene?” 

 

 

Gene glared. “What I want or don’t want is about as important as a tramp’s farts. What I do need to know is what the hell is going on in my city, and for some reason, you seem to be the person who knows.” 

 

 

“I asked before. Why should I believe you?” Sam said. 

 

 

“Don’t then. Just tell me what you saw. All the details. Because I don’t give Dennis Law’s jockstrap if you believe me or not, but I do want to sort out that scum. So just open your gob – you’re good enough at that – and tell me.” 

 

 

Sam shrugged and went back to the bedroom to dress. The sitting room was a mess, so Gene went in to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sam grimaced when he joined him there, noting the incongruous domesticity of the two mugs of tea. 

 

 

They talked for the next hour, almost as if they were back on the same team, going over a case. Gene picked over every detail, sometimes questioning Sam as if he was a witness, sometimes a suspect, sometimes a colleague. He didn’t offer much himself.

 

 

Finally he stood. Sam remained sitting.

 

 

“Right,” he said. “I need to go and sort this out. I’m not finished with you, Tyler. Don’t get any funny ideas. Just stay here and don’t leave unless I send for you. I’ll get Jack to cancel any bookings you have tonight.”

 

 

He barely waited for Sam to nod agreement before he left the flat.

* * * * *

Jack looked tired, Sukey decided. Late nights and early mornings got a little too much to handle as you got older. But there was another weariness in his eyes. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Only that it reminded her of other men, just before they did something stupid. Or retired to somewhere hot and sunny.

 

 

He handed her a slip of paper. “Go and knock up the little queer upstairs. Gene wants a word with him as soon as possible. And boy, is that lad in trouble.” 

 

 

“Sam? Why, what’s happened?” 

 

 

“Disgruntled client, from what I can make out. Looks like he’s not exactly been playing ball.” 

 

 

Sukey frowned. She thought Gene had sorted it last night. Certainly there had been more raised voices and sounds of fighting than she usually expected coming out of Sam’s flat. She took the piece of paper from Jack. 

 

 

“It’s the address. Tell him to get down there pronto. I’ve got things to do, can’t be looking after idiots like Tyler.” And with that, Jack vanished down the street. 

 

 

Still frowning, Sukey closed the front door and walked slowly up the stairs. Reaching the landing, she banged on the door to Sam’s flat hard. But there was no reply. She tried the door, but it was locked. 

 

 

She quickly found her spare key and went back, letting herself in and making straight for the bedroom. The place was a tip. Chairs tipped over, smashed glasses, papers strewn everywhere. It must’ve been a hell of a fight the night before. She bit her lip. Surely Sam was all right? 

 

 

Peering round the bedroom door, the sight was the same. It looked like a whirlwind had progressed through the room, flinging everything together. Sam lay in the middle of his bed, obviously naked, tangled up in the sheets. 

 

 

Sukey crossed over and shook him. Sam stirred and looked up with bleary eyes. 

 

 

“Sukey? What time is it?” 

 

 

“It’s just after six, Sam.” 

 

 

Sam groaned. “It’s too early,” he stated, resting his head back down on his arm and closing his eyes. 

 

 

She shook him again. 

 

 

“What?” 

 

 

“Message for you. From Mr. Hunt. He wants to meet with you down at the canal. “ 

 

 

Sam pushed himself out of bed and Sukey gasped as she saw the mottled bruising that covered half his torso, his black eye and split lip. 

 

 

“Christ, Sam. What did you do?” 

 

 

“I gave Hunt a piece of my mind.” He grinned suddenly, but it was almost feral. “I doubt he looks much better.” 

 

 

Sukey flinched. She knew what happened to those who fought back. But they were normally the pimps who beat on their girls, the scum that tried to get for free what they couldn’t pay for. The occasional girl who got funny ideas about what she was doing and whom she was doing it for. She knew what Sam was doing and it scared her. 

 

 

Sam washed and dressed quickly. “Do you know where I’m supposed to meet Hunt?” he called. 

 

 

She handed him the piece of paper Jack had given her and Sam tucked it into the pocket of his jacket as he put it on. 

 

 

“That’s the address. He said he’d be waiting for you.” 

 

 

Sam nodded. “Cheers, Sukey. I’ll catch you later, eh?” and he made his way to the door of the flat. 

 

 

Sukey followed him, and as he opened the door she grabbed him by the arm. “Sam?” 

 

 

He turned with a quizzical look in his eyes. 

 

 

“Take care, eh? I couldn’t help but hear the shouting and the fighting last night. I know Mr Hunt was angry – I’ve never seen him look that furious. And I’m just… I’m just worried about you, that’s all.” 

 

 

Sam reached out, and caressed her cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Sukey. I’ll be fine.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite touch his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Bye.” 

 

 

Sam turned and raced down the stairs as Sukey touched her cheek and stared after him. Slowly she walked back down to her flat, trying to shake the feeling that it would be the last time she would see him. 

 

 

Half an hour later, while still getting dressed for her next appointment, Sukey was disturbed by a loud banging and shouting from upstairs. Pulling on a dressing gown and running up the stairs, she ran face to face with Gene, as he was leaving Sam’s flat. 

 

 

“I might have known he’d try and run,” Gene shouted, half at her, half at empty air. “Bloody stupid tosspot. Do you have any idea where he might go or how long he’s been gone?” 

 

 

Sukey frowned. “Sam? He went out about half an hour ago. But it was a meeting.” 

 

 

“And just who was the little bastard meeting with?” 

 

 

“He was supposed to be meeting you.” 

 

 

“You what?” 

 

 

“I took the message. He was to meet with you as soon as possible. That’s where he’s gone.” 

 

 

“Who gave you the message?” 

 

 

Still frowning, she replied. “Jack did, of course. Said he was to get there as soon as possible as you were waiting for him.” 

 

 

“What the bloody hell is Jack playing at? Where is this mythical meeting?” Gene growled, pulling on his driving gloves. 

 

 

“It was on a slip of paper. Sam took it with him.” She blanched at Gene’s furious look. “But I did have a peek at it, before I gave him the message. It was down at Trafford Wharf. One of the packing places.” 

 

 

Gene grabbed her and kissed her hard. “You, Sukey, are a star amongst women. It looks like I’m going to have to have a quiet word with my bar manager and my most annoying employee. Though first…” and with that Gene disappeared back into Sam’s flat for a couple of minutes, slipping something into his pocket as he came out, closing the door behind him. “Can you hold down the fort at the Flamingo for me?” 

 

 

“I’ve got a job in half an hour.” 

 

 

“Hmm, call Phyllis, she’ll sort it out. Michelle or someone can cover for you. Right now, I need someone I can trust down at the club. If Jack or Tyler turn up, find some reason to keep them there. I’ll go along to the warehouse, have a scout around and then head back there. Hopefully I won’t be too long. If they start to protest, hit them on the head and lock them in the cellar. There is something about this I really don’t like and I’m going to get to the bottom of it, preferably before beer o’clock.” And with that Gene disappeared down the stairs and out the front door. 

 

 

Sukey shrugged and turned back to her flat to ring Phyllis and give her the bad news.

* * * * *

Sam’s head hurt. Any movement at all sent pains shooting up his neck and purple spots dancing in front of his eyes.

 

 

Finally he was able to open his eyes enough to see that he was lying on a pile of pallets and trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Slowly he remembered getting a message from Gene, but being met by Jack at the warehouse. Then nothing. 

 

 

He manoeuvred himself around, as quietly as possible, ignoring the pain in his head until he was sitting almost upright, carefully propped up as well as he could in his condition. 

 

 

There seemed to be an argument going on in front of him, but it took several tries for his muzzy brain to catch up with the action. 

 

 

“You bloody fool. He’s a damn copper,” Vic gesticulated, holding a battered old Webley. 

 

 

Jack sighed. “He’s not a copper. He’s a bent ex-copper. He’s now just a rather expensive whore. Just what you asked for.” 

 

 

“Well, I didn’t know that the price included the danger of dealing with the police in that kind of way,” Vic groused. “And he didn’t quite deliver the goods, did he?” 

 

 

“Well, that’s not my fault, is it? I mean, I wasn’t the one to set up the camera. I seem to remember you being the one showing off your ‘previous experience’. Might’ve known you had aspirations of Hollywood, rather than just doing a good job.” 

 

 

Vic flinched, but let the obvious insult go. “So what do we do with him then?” 

 

 

Jack shrugged. “Up to you, Morton. I’m, after all, just a hireling this time round.” 

 

 

Vic stood and thought for a second. “Well, we’re going to have to kill him. He obviously knows far too much.” He stared at Jack for a moment. “This is your mess, you know. You should sort it out.” 

 

 

Jack shrugged. “It was your idea to bring the bloody fool down here. We could’ve got away from here in a second. Now we have a sodding body to think about.” 

 

 

“You were the one who called me up with the fact that you had a problem. What else was I supposed to do?”

 

 

“Help me out. Get me out of here. It was getting rather hot round here with my boss anyway. We could’ve vanished out of Manchester without Gene Hunt even noticing. Now he’s definitely going to notice.” 

 

 

Vic stared at Jack with an expression of surprise. “And just what has DCI Gene Hunt got to do with this mess?” 

 

 

Jack stared back. “Christ, Vic. You are one of the most incompetent fellows I’ve ever met. Everyone knows Gene Hunt helps run half the brothels in the town. Him and that bitch of a partner he has. How the hell do you think it’s passed under the coppers’ radar up to now, eh?” 

 

 

“You know, I’m beginning to see your game, Evans. I thought I smelt a rat from the start. You fob me off with a sub-standard rent-boy in the name of him being as bent as can be, then you tell me, casually I might add, that you actually work for DCI Hunt. Oh, I see it all now. This is all a set-up, isn’t it? DI Tyler here is working undercover, waiting his chance to trap me, pull me in once he’s collected enough evidence. You, the old friend, about to turn me in, just biding your time. I bet you’ve even lined up a transfer to my city once I’m gone. Ready and willing to take over my work, eh? And any minute now Hunt and the rest of his band are going to burst in and attempt to arrest me while you and useless there walk away scot free.” 

 

 

Sam held his breath for a moment. It all seemed so plausible that he almost expected Gene and other members of Manchester CID to burst through the doors that very second and break up this little meeting. 

 

 

But of course, the moment passed and Vic, still snarling, pulled up his gun and shot Jack between the eyes. Jack fell backwards, a final look of surprise eternally etched on his face. 

 

 

Turning to Sam in the corner, Vic finally noticed that he was awake and smiled. “Well, well, DI Tyler. We meet again,” and he brought the gun up level with Sam’s face. 

 

 

Sam stared down the barrel of the gun. “Wait! Just wait! We could make a deal here.” 

 

 

“And why would I listen to you?”

 

 

“I let you walk away once before, remember? Back at the wedding?” 

 

 

“The situation has changed, _Detective Inspector_. I’m calling the shots now. And I say that you are far too dangerous to live.” 

 

 

Sam sighed. “I’m not a policeman any more, you know? Jack was right. I was bounced off the force for being even more corrupt than _they_ could handle. “ 

 

 

“So you say, but do I believe it? The coppers are worse than half the criminals round here. Hell, worse than any of them. At least we don’t dress our deeds up as good for the city overall. At least we’re _that_ honest.” 

 

 

Sam bit his tongue, Vic had a point, after all. He decided to change tactics. “But don’t you see? You could get out of here now and be miles away before anyone knew I was missing. Jack set it up, so all the girls think I’m out with a client, it could be hours.” 

 

 

“No can do, Inspector. You know as well as I do that the minute I walk out of here, I’ll run straight into a police cordon and be arrested before you can say, well, Jack Evans.” 

 

 

“But that’s crazy. If the police were here they’d’ve come in already.” 

 

 

Right on cue, a familiar drawl sounded through the empty space. “Well, hello Vic, fancy seeing you here.” Gene stood in the middle of the warehouse, gun unobtrusively dangling from one hand, obviously having come in sometime during their argument. 

 

 

In one swift movement Vic hauled Sam up onto his feet and, dragging on the ropes that still bound him tightly, pulled Sam in front of him, holding his gun to his head. 

 

 

“One more move, Hunt, and I’ll shoot your golden boy.” 

 

 

Gene appeared not to hear, instead looking down at the body of Jack Evans lying on the floor. “Thanks for doing half my job for me, Tyler. Back-stabbing employees are always a pain in the arse to get rid of.” 

 

 

“I mean, it, Hunt. One more step and I will kill him.” 

 

 

Gene shrugged. “It’s all the same to me, Tyler. Shoot the little toerag, don’t shoot him. It’s not going to do you much good either way. I’ve been checking up, you see. You’ve been run out of more than one city in the last few years. This could be quite a feather in my cap. Would be a shame to share the glory.” 

 

 

Vic was getting visibly more frustrated. He jerked hard on the ropes binding Sam and Sam nearly stumbled. “You’re out of your depth, Hunt. The only backup you’ve got is tied up and useless. What are you going to do?” 

 

 

Gene swiftly brought his up his right hand, aiming the gun unerringly at Vic. “Let Sam go and I’ll not shoot you. That easy enough for you?” 

 

 

“Just shoot him, Gene,” Sam shouted, but Gene ignored him, focusing on Vic with a determined single-mindedness. 

 

 

“Well?” 

 

 

Vic snarled. “Drop the gun and we may have a deal. Don’t drop the gun and I pull this trigger now.” 

 

 

Gene’s eyes flickered to the side and, after a moment’s pause, he slowly lowered his gun, laying it carefully on the floor. 

 

 

“Gene! No!” Sam cried out, but was silenced as Vic brought the gun down on his head, the crack of metal meeting skull rebounding through the warehouse. Sam slumped slightly in Vic’s grasp, not quite out cold, but dazed.

 

 

Vic smirked. “You know, Chief Inspector, that you’re either quite stupid or quite mad. “This one here,” and with that he indicated to Sam with the gun “at least understands that I can’t be threatened into anything. Not while I’m holding all the cards. You, however, seem to have raised bluffing to an art form.” Vic swung his arm around and levelled the gun at the older man. “He can get me out of here. You on the other hand…” Vic bared his teeth at Gene and pulled the trigger. 

 

 

The sound of the gun echoed strangely in the wide-open space of the warehouse and all three men fell to the floor.


	3. 3. Sinker

**Six months later**

 

 

The Detective Inspector sauntered through the almost empty office. Only a couple of DCs were sitting at their desks, typing up reports. The others were, with no doubt, out solving such crimes as crossed the desks of Manchester's finest. In truth, it had been a quiet six months. Which had been good for the lads. But they were all straining at the bit for some adventure. Something that the DI had had more than enough of recently. 

 

 

He knocked at the inner sanctum, waiting until a gruff voice answered, and pushed open the door. 

 

 

DCI Hunt was at his desk, feet up on the table, staring at his noticeboard with a frown. 

 

 

“Come in, Detective Inspector. All quiet on the Western Front?”

 

 

“As much as it ever is. Not even a barney at the Flamingo. The new manager is turning out to be a gem.” 

 

 

Gene smiled at that. “Yeah, Sukey was always good at that sort of thing. I'm glad to see things are working out for her.” 

 

 

“To be honest, the lads are getting a bit restless, Guv.” 

 

 

“Well, it won't last. It's good to make the most of it while you can.” Gene indicated to the noticeboard. “Something's come in that I think you might be interested in.” 

 

 

The DI walked across the room and unpinned a card, turning it over in his hand. It was a cheap postcard, with a suitably exotic scene on the front. On the back was printed the Guv's name and the Station's address in familiar handwriting. The message was only two words – _Far enough?_

 

 

 

**Six months earlier**

 

 

Ray could hear raised voices as he entered the warehouse, so he cautiously made his way towards them. He pulled out his gun. The Guv had insisted when he called that he would need one. 

 

 

As he peered round the door he was met with a tableau. Vic Tyler had Sam trussed up like a Christmas turkey, holding him close with a gun pressed to his head, while the Guv tried to talk reason into him. Things were becoming heated and Ray swore under his breath as the Guv put down his gun at Tyler's insistence. 

 

 

Sam started protesting at that, but a swift blow to the head silenced him for a time. Now Vic Tyler was almost screaming his accusations and, in a wild move, swung the gun around to the Guv. Ray had to act fast and act soon. Sam was blocking a clean shot, but it was the best chance he had. At the same moment Vic Tyler pulled the trigger, Ray did also and he watched in horror as all three went down. 

 

 

Still covering Tyler's position, Ray ran over to Gene, who was already trying to sit up. His head was bleeding, but it was obviously only a scratch. Ray whipped out a handkerchief and handed it to Gene to stop the bleeding. 

 

 

Gene picked himself up. “Bloody lousy shot. Are all Tylers that crap, eh?” He looked over to the motionless pair. “Let's see what a hash of this you've made, eh, Carling?” 

 

 

They cautiously moved over to the other two men. Sam was covered in blood, but it was only the other man's blood, whose face had been half-blown away by Ray's single shot. 

 

 

“Not bad, Ray. Not bad at all.” 

 

 

Sam started to groan. A second blow to the head as he had fallen had knocked him out cold. Gene quickly untied the ropes that bound him, dragging Sam to his feet as he finally focused on the two coppers. 

 

 

“What now?” 

 

 

Gene stared at him for a couple of seconds, before reaching into his coat. He took out a large envelope and handed it wordlessly to Sam. 

 

 

Sam took it cautiously and peered inside. His passport and savings, and more cash besides, were all nestled together. He looked up, bewildered. 

 

 

“Just… Just get out of my city.” Gene said gruffly. “Get as far as you can away. I never want to see you again. Do you hear me?” 

 

 

Sam stared back. “I…” 

 

 

“Don't say anything, just go. Got it?” 

 

 

Sam nodded and turned, but Ray laid a hand on his arm and finally finding his voice, he spoke.

 

 

“Good luck, Tyler.” 

 

 

Sam moved his lips in a semblance of a smile. “Thanks.” And with that he left. 

 

 

The two men stood in silence for a few minutes, before Gene sighed. “Well, it looks like we've stumbled in on a bit of a barney here, Ray, me lad. Who'd've thought that two men could kill each other just like that, leaving no witnesses behind, eh?” 

 

 

Ray shook his head. “Looks like an open and shut case to me, Guv.” 

 

 

“Good job we got that tip-off. You'd better call in the clean-up crew.” 

 

 

Ray nodded and left to call for backup. 

 

 

 

**Present**

 

 

DI Ray Carling carefully pinned the postcard back on the board and sat in the other chair as Gene pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, adding a generous measure to each before offering Ray one. 

 

 

Ray took a mouthful of the spirit before speaking. “So, Mexico, eh. Is it far enough?” 

 

 

Gene looked thoughtful for a minute, before nodding. “You know Ray, I think it might just be.” 

 

 

_fin_


End file.
